A Story That One May Not Easily Forget
by SoiledRainbow
Summary: Join the boys of Gryffindor as Harry shares with them a tale they are not likely to forget. Something that may even chill YOU! R&R!
1. In Which The Girls Are Not Discovered

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling's Mind, with the exception of the plot. 

R&R!

The time: 1:23 AM.

The Place: Gryffindor Boys Dormitory.

Everything was quiet, except for maybe a few taps at the window. Nearly Headless Nick loved to toy with the boys of Gryffindor. Except for that, everything _else_ was quiet. The boys were sleeping, lost in their wet dreams and current worries.

And then it happened.

A scream broke the quiet of the dormitory and interrupted the dreams of the teenage boys.

"W-what was the that?" Ron groaned as he sat bolt up right in bed.

"Oh, erm, sorry mate," Harry mumbled from the nearest bed. "That was me."

Silence.

"Did you have that—"

"Yeah, same one." All of the other boys in the dormitory were on the ends of their beds, peering out at Harry, every boy curious.

"Well, go on!" Seamus yelled. "Tell us what made you scream, you silly git! You did wake us up, after all."

"I really don't think you—" Harry started but was cut short.

"SPILL IT!" all of the boys yelled.

Off in the girls' dormitory everyone froze. "Think they heard us?" Parvati whispered, her hand frozen over the cauldron set up in the middle of the room, all of the girls listening anxiously.

"No," Hermione said confidently. "Add the ingredient now otherwise it won't work!"

"Right, right, sorry," Parvati mumbled.

Now then, back to Harry and the other boys.

Harry sighed and sat at the end of his bed. "I suppose I could share," he said. A quiet murmur spread across the room before all ears were leant to Harry.

"What I'm about to tell you is going to stick in your minds for a while," he said softly, everyone straining to hear him. Ron leaned against his bedpost, prepared to hear this again. "Just ask Ron, it tormented him for weeks." Harry jerked his thumb in Ron's direction. Ron nodded his head in agreement as all of the others looked his way for confirmation.

Harry paused for a dramatic effect momentarily. He opened his mouth to begin and everyone held their breath.

"It started at the end of our fifth year…" he began softly, "when I stepped onto the train back to London…"


	2. In Which Harry Is Irrelevant

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling's Mind, with the exception of the plot.

R&R!

"When I stepped onto the train everything was as it normally was," Harry said quietly, everyone wide awake. Harry had an exciting life and EVERYONE loved hearing about it. Well, with the exception of Ron when he was miffed. But that doesn't matter right now. "With, of course, the change of my family status back to zero once again." Harry sighed and paused, his eyes glazing over momentarily as he recalled his God Father. Neville even swore he saw a tear welling up in the corner of Harry's eye…but in an instant, Harry was back to telling his story and his eyes were clear. Clear of tears, that was. There was still that gunk in his eyes, but who cares about that stuff?

"Well?" Seamus once again prodded. "Are you going to continue or what?"

"Yes, yes," Harry said. "So I took a compartment with Ron and Hermione, just as we always do. And we just sort of sat there. You know, until we got back to London."

Silence fell over the room once Harry stopped talking.

"Wait a bloody minute," some one piped up. "Was that even relevant to the story?"

"No, not really," Harry admitted and then wondered why he'd even said it.

"Because you said it last time, mate," Ron explained, glancing over at Harry.

"I suppose that's the reason…" Harry muttered and then shook his head. "Right, so we got to London—"

"Is this going to be relevant?"

"Erm, no, not really," Harry concluded.

"Get to the interesting bits already!" Seamus yelled.

Elsewhere, things were afoot. The Fat Lady awoke with a start and burped without warning. "Oh my…" she mumbled behind her hand. "I do apologize."

"You bloody well better!" yelled a disgruntled scholar from a near by painting. "You interrupted my sleep!"

"Well I _never_!" exclaimed the Fat Lady.

We digress.

"Did you really have to yell?" Ron scolded, narrowing his eyes.

"Probably not," Seamus decided quietly. "I guess I could have said it a bit softer."

"'Course you could have," Ron said, glaring at Seamus. "Do you really want to upset The Boy Who Lived? I mean _really_."

"Well…"

"Say sorry," Ron snapped, taking on the role of authority.

"But—"

"Now." Seamus looked around the room bashfully and then sighed, turning his gaze to Harry.

"Sorry, Harry," Seamus mumbled.

"S'alright," Harry said, leaning back slightly and basking in his importance.

"C-could you continue?" Seamus asked quietly. "Please?"

"Of course. So, where was I?"

"No where relevant," came the quiet reply from no where distinguishable. In truth, it had been Neville. He'd thrown his voice. Over the years he'd been practicing to become a ventriloquist, without anyone ever knowing. He was quite good at it.

Once again, we digress.

"The Dursleys decided they wouldn't pick me up that day," Harry said, folding his hands in his lap as he looked off into the distance. "So I ended up walking, for Ron and Hermione had both left already. I was about half way home when it happened…"


	3. In Which There Is A Bouncy Ball

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling's Mind, with the exception of the plot.

R&R!

"Out of NOWHERE!" Harry said, raising his voice in a quiet manner and jumping up on his bed. "This bouncy ball came hurtling toward me! This big red bouncy ball the size of our beds!"

Several of the boys exchanged befuddled glances.

"A bouncy ball?" some one asked.

"Yes, a bouncy ball," Harry concluded. He nodded his head confidently and smiled like a fool, as if he were some great and terrible hero who had faced down a monster.

"There's more to the story, right?" Neville asked, this time asking himself instead of throwing his voice.

"Of course there is," Harry said and sat back down, blushing slightly.

"Well then?"

"Right," Harry said and then cleared his throat. "Common sense made me dodge out of the path of the ball and I watched it continue its disastrous path down the side walk." Seamus opened his mouth, about to argue with the term "disastrous" being used for a bouncy ball, but then promptly shut it when Ron glared at him. "Moments after the ball had disappeared behind several buildings, none other than Severus Snape comes running down the side walk, seemingly chasing the ball."

Everyone was silent as this image formed in their minds. Humorous of all was probably Neville's imagery, due to his third year encounter with the Bogart, which everyone should know turned into Snape and then appeared to be wearing the clothes of Neville's grandmother. Just the thought of Snape chasing a large bouncy ball and trying to hold onto the vulture hat was enough to satisfy Neville for several years.

But now then, back to Harry's tale.

"Once he had disappeared behind the buildings as well, I stood up out of the street," Harry said, starting to swing his legs as he talked, glancing off at the ceiling. The perfect picture of a little gir—WAIT! Boy. That's what he is. Boy. Honest. "Of course, being the Boy Who Lived, every car swerved to avoid my body. They understood my importance." All of the boys nodded their heads. It made sense, of course. If he survived Voldemort, why should jumping into the street and then staying in the usually busy London traffic be hazardous? It wouldn't be, of course. Duh.

"But that was the least of the strange events that filled my day," Harry said softly, looking around the room, fixing on each face momentarily as if predicting their deaths, but he wasn't. That was Trelawny's job.

As he scanned the faces of everyone, Harry noticed some one was sleeping…and picked up a pair of socks, chucking them at the sleeping boy.

"Oye! Wake up!" Harry scolded. The boy twitched slightly, rolling over.

"Sod off," he mumbled and buried his face in a pillow.

Harry started to pout and turned to look at Ron.

"No worries," Ron said, jumping off of his bed and stretching his arms. "I'll take care of him." With that, Ron stomped off over to the bed with the sleeping Gryffindor boy. Everyone watched carefully as Ron jumped on top of him and started slapping him, pansy style. "Get up, pansy boy! Get up and listen to the Great One's story! Or ELSE!"

The boy batted at Ron franticly and then pushed him off. "Alright already!" he yelled, red faced and panting. "Bloody 'ell! You're both nutty!"

Ron glared at him for a minute and then shrugged. "Yeah, I know that already."

"Now that everyone is awake," Harry said scornfully. "I suppose I shall continue." He sighed and looked around. "Wait, where was I?"

"Erm, somewhere like 'the least of the strange events that filled my day' I believe," Seamus supplied.

"Oh, right," Harry said. "Thanks Seamus."

Seamus beamed.

"So once out of the road, I started walking down the side walk again, determined to get to the Dursleys before nightfall…"


End file.
